Nightswimming
by Valhalla
Summary: It's dark and smooth, the ocean, like glass; Charlotte's silhouette slices through, moon rippling on the waves in her wake." A midnight interlude. Daniel/Charlotte.


**Title:** Nightswimming  
**Characters/Pairings:** Daniel/Charlotte  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** "It's dark and smooth, the ocean, like glass; Charlotte's silhouette slices through, moon rippling on the waves in her wake." A midnight interlude.  
**Spoilers:** Vague early S4.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**A/N:** Title from REM. For fifmeister and her request of Dan/Charlotte, _wet_.

----

It's quite possibly the worst idea in the world, Dan thinks, the second Charlotte muses, _you know, we've been here a week -- on a tropical island of all places -- and still never been for a swim._

"Swimming?" The gadget in Daniel's hands falls still, cradled in his palms, and he looks up at Charlotte, disbelief colouring his face but every possible excuse -- _it's too dark, too late; if there's a smoke monster in the jungle who knows what's in the water_ -- dying on his lips the second he catches her eyes, already bright and so, so blue, shining with something that's all but cracked and waned since they landed.

They slip away from camp easily enough -- and really, Dan thinks, too easily after the Tempest -- and hike, under the cover of a darkness so thick it's almost suffocating, down the beach. The survivors' fires are pinpricks of light in the distance by the time Charlotte stops, takes quick stock of their surroundings (_this looks good_, she murmurs, though it's all sand to him).

The fire's only started to burn and smoke when Charlotte steps back into the shadows; she toes off her boots, jeans sliding down her thighs and Daniel gulps, watching her skin glow pale in the flames. Her t-shirt follows next, pulled taut across outstretched arms and then tossed to the ground. She glances back at him, already moving through the sand and towards the water, one brow, the corner of her lips quirking upwards. "You coming?"

"I, um --" His mind stutters to a stop, struggles to catch up with his words. "Yeah -- yeah, sure."

The knot of his tie catches but he rips through it anyway, tugs at the buttons and shrugs out of his dress shirt, fumbles with the clasp on his belt. Hops away from the pile of discarded clothes -- next to the airline blankets, laying scattered, grabbed from camp -- and gasps a little as the waves hit his shins, expecting something like a bath and getting almost-cool water chilling his skin.

It's dark and smooth, the ocean, like glass; Charlotte's silhouette slices through, moon rippling on the waves in her wake. Her hair's limp with water, pooling heavy and tangled behind her on the surface, drifting so close her could reach out, sift his fingers through her curls. She swims further out, strokes strong and sure, churning more water with her kicks --_ I used to swim varsity in school_, she recounts, flipping onto her back and spreading her arms wide, tank top puckering against her stomach, _before studying took up every second._

Dan treads behind her, testing for the reassuring graze of wet sand beneath his toes. "Oh, really? I wasn't ever good at, uh, any sports."

"Never would have guessed," Charlotte shoots back, but it's tender, gently teasing, as she swims towards him, circling closer with long, lazy movements and sending waves lapping at his chest. Suddenly she yelps a little, and before he can even think, react, she's slinging her arms around his neck and pulling her legs up to straddle his thighs, head whipping back and forth. _Charlotte_ -- he chokes on a laugh, tightening his grip around her waist, too surprised to do anything else -- _what's wrong?_

"Oh." Her eyes lift to meet his, so close their noses almost brush, still clinging to him. "It's silly, really -- irrational fear of ..." She pauses, breaking into a rueful grin and Dan would swear she's blushing only because he knows the look so well. "... sea creatures. Think a fish touched my foot just then, is all."

He's chuckling again -- can't help it, thinking of Charlotte being scared of anything, let alone some poor trout or salmon -- when her lips catch his, so softly for a second he thinks it's just wishful thinking, and she smiles against his mouth, water splashing up between them. Another brush of a kiss, and -- _thanks_, Charlotte murmurs, gaze flickering across his face, watching, waiting.

Daniel somehow manages to find his voice, the _you're welcome_ coming out hoarse anyway; her grin grows, brightens -- _fire's almost out_, she drawls, voice edged with humour, disentangling her embrace -- and pushes away from him, splashing back towards shore.

So maybe he needs to alter his thesis a little, Dan considers, cresting through the water to Charlotte's side, fingers capturing hers and shy smiles exchanged, that in all of the worst ideas, this has to be the absolute best.


End file.
